Originally published by The Clifton Courier, July 22 , 2020

I’m not a particularly superstitious person.

I’ll walk under ladders. I’ll open umbrellas inside. I mean, I won’t crack a mirror because I don’t want to release the spirit of the demon entombed inside it and unleash evil in the world, but that’s got nothing to do with keeping bad luck at bay.

I mean, I’m already pretty lucky – I was born in Australia and just so happened to be cut out of a woman who was already in a great, loving family and, despite my middle name being a little less than trendy, I think I ended up with the best name out of all my sisters (however, I was recently informed by someone who read an alarming article forecasting that Danielle would become the Karen of 20 years from now because there’s so many Danielles out there around my age – and me having a double N would be extra Karen energy because I would sassily say “ah, actually sweetie, it’s a double N”).

I’ve never won a meat tray, but I know I’m a lucky person. So when I do things that could be considered superstitious, it’s not so much about luck.

It’s something I can’t quite put my finger on.

It’s a bit about my upbringing. It’s a bit about habit. It’s also something that is best explained by quoting one of the greatest fictional legal minds this country has ever seen: it’s the vibe of the thing.

* Yeah, so I used a new pen for the drawings and I shan’t be using it again. In case it’s not crystal clear to you, this book says “Australia’s constitution: It’s the vibe of the thing!”

Some people might think that my insistence on having volume settings on either even numbers of multiples of five is superstitious. I mean, I get quite agitated when I’m in the same room as someone who turns up a TV and leaves the volume on some heathen number like 27 or 19.

It makes my skin crawl.

If I don’t know the person that well and am trying to slowly reveal my true self to them in gradual form, I won’t spook them by speaking up. I’d prefer for my true ways to encroach on them bit by bit so they don’t realise what they’re dealing with until they’re in too deep – like a slowly rising tide creeping up on an innocent sand castle just trying to live its life.

But it’s also very, very hard to just leave the volume on that disgusting number.

I can feel that 27. It screams inside my head. It’s like tiny hermit crabs scuttling around angrily under my skin.

I mean, when it’s just me in control of remotes or dials, I adjust the number to be either a multiple of five or an even number without thinking. It’s hardwired into my brain to the point that I don’t notice it when I’m on my own.

It’s pure habit.

And it’s only when I’m with someone who doesn’t confirm to this way of thinking that it becomes obvious to me.

I try to remember why I’m this way, because it feels like it’s always been part of me. I have it on good authority that one’s brain doesn’t stop maturing until about 25 so now my brain is hard and brittle, like cheap old plastic cup left out in the weather for a few months. But when I was younger, my thought cauldron was soft and malleable, ripe for moulding by guiding hands. Both fortunately and unfortunately, those hands were often those of my eldest sister.

She was always bringing home glamorous cool girl ideas to pass on to us girls – crimped hair; saying “talk to the hand” with a sassy roll of the wrist; Hanson. I owe her a lot.

I have a feeling she picked this up somewhere from one of her cool Year Seven friends and insisted on enforcing a strict evens or fives regime in the Maguire household. And, just like the Hanson poster she glued to her bedroom wall, it stuck.

But now I think it’s more than just coercion converted into habit.

Because I like the vibe of fives and even numbers.

Five is a fantastic number and it’s everywhere you look: five senses, five vowels, five Spice Girls (Victoria Beckham may not have gone on the last tour, but she’ll always be a Spice Girl in my heart). And even numbers just work. You divide them up and they’re never alone. There’s always a partner for the other number.

Odd numbers – besides fives – just feel wrong. Chaotic, even. I don’t know how to explain it, but odd numbers just seem like dodgy people.

Of course, you can’t explain this to someone you don’t really know that well, so it’s best just to enforce strict control over volume settings at all times. I mean, they may think you have control issues, but that’s clearly much better than the truth.